


unlikely

by WanderingCreep



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Friendship, Head Injury, tol and smol, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingCreep/pseuds/WanderingCreep
Summary: To be honest, it had thrown Finn for quite a loop when Braun hadn’t tried to crush his head like an apple again. And even more so when he’d let drop that he considered him a friend.Did monsters have friends?Apparently.set after monday night raw 6/18/18





	unlikely

**Author's Note:**

> something short and sweet for two dorks.  
> not exactly a ship, but i mean, whatever floats your boat, i guess.  
> their odd little relationship leaves me so weak.

unlikely

 

 

To be honest, it had thrown Finn for quite a loop when Braun hadn’t tried to crush his head like an apple again. And even more so when he’d let drop that he considered Finn a friend.

Did monsters have friends?

Finn wasn’t entirely sure; he supposed so, after a while’s thought. Braun hadn’t tried to stomp a mudhole in his sternum tonight, so that must count for something, right?

He _had_ picked him up and thrown him across the ring, but Finn guessed he’d taken too long in getting a successful tag in, so Braun had taken matters into his own hands. Braun’s giant hands weren’t made for being careful anyway.

And it really sucked that they’d lost.

Braun hadn’t had much of a chance to be in the ring, and so Finn had taken the full brunt of the match with his own body. Corbin had been wearing him down systematically since the match began and of course when Braun nearly took himself out trying to run down Kevin, it had been prime time for Corbin to strike the weakest member of the would-be tag team.

Finn had been entirely too weak to keep up in the last few moments. Usually he prided himself on his resilience; you didn’t get to be the vessel of a demon king by being weak. Yet there he was, lying in the middle of the ring on his back, head swimming and vision blurry, exhausted and shaking.

Braun has somehow returned to the ring and is standing over him. At first, Finn thinks he’s glowering down at him, probably pissed that it was Finn who ended up losing the match for the both of them. But when he doesn’t feel the intensity of Braun’s eyes on him, Finn turns his head with some monumental effort and follows the giant’s gaze up the ramp to where Corbin has escaped.

Holding his head and looking a little worse for wear but escaping victorious nonetheless.

Finn blows out a heavy sigh and thumps his head back against the mat.

Well, _shit_.

Finn can feel the mat shift as Braun stalks away. Whenever he moves, it feels like small earthquakes are tremoring through the mat, and now it feels like he’s climbing over the ropes and dropping to the floor below. He’s done here, and it seems like he’s done with Finn, too.

Finn tries not to feel too bad about it, tries not to feel like he let Braun down. After all, he hadn’t even been aware that they were _friends_. He doesn’t know Braun well enough to feel guilty about losing their match. But still.

Finn blinks a couple of times to make the world stop shaking. He’s really tired all of a sudden, like the adrenaline he’d had from the match has just evaporated into thin air. But he really needs to get to the back, needs to at least get to the hotel before he passes out.

Ugh, _the hotel_. That sounded so far away. Easier said than done.

Finn rolls over and pauses, steadies himself by leaning on one elbow and taking some deep breaths. He happens to look up towards the ramp again, notices some concerned looking stage hands coming down to ringside. At first, he thinks they’re coming for him. Then he remembers that he didn’t see Kevin slinking up the ramp with Corbin. The stage hands make their way towards the bellkeeper’s alcove and even from the ring, Finn can hear them fussing over Kevin.

Not like _Finn_ wasn’t over here struggling to see straight.

Then again, he didn’t get plowed through the barricades by a seven foot monster. He counts himself lucky.

Finn hoists himself onto his knees and squints up at the bright lights shining down at him. He can hear the crowd buzzing around him; some of them are chanting his name, others sound like they’re just now getting ready to call it quits and head home. It is rather late.

They must be tired.

Finn is tired.

So, so tired.

Finn scoots towards the bottom rope and rolls none to gracefully out from under it and onto the floor. He sways a little when his feet hit the ground and the world tilts dangerously, but Finn shakes it off and limps his way up the ramp. It’s a sort of adventure trying to get up the ramp; Finn has to consciously remind himself to put one foot in front of the other and it feels like he’s leaning slightly to the right.

_Left foot, right foot._

_Left foot, right foot._

He doesn’t remember getting past the curtains in gorilla. He vaguely remembers someone asking him if he was alright, if they should get help. Finn waves them off (in reality, he just sort of shook his arm at them, like an awkward flapping motion from a drunken bird) and shuffles down the hall. He’s halfway down the corridor when he decides he needs to stop for a moment. Leaning against some equipment boxes, he realizes, from somewhere deep behind the fog of fatigue, that he’s being watched.

He looks up and meets the passive stare of Braun Strowman, who is standing a little ways down the hall. That’s funny – Finn would’ve thought he’d be long gone by now, doing whatever it was monsters did.

Finn blinks at the man. Then he holds up one hand, like he knows that Braun is about to lay into him. “Hey,” he says (slurs, in reality), “I know. It sucks. But you know what?”

Braun doesn’t know, and Finn doesn’t elaborate.

His right leg chooses that moment in particular to fold underneath him and then he’s watching the floor speed towards his face at an alarming velocity. He tenses like he can get his arms up in time to stop himself from smashing his nose and teeth and everything against the linoleum, but almost as quickly as it happens, he’s stopped.

He can feel his mouth moving, can feel the vibrations of his own voice in the back of his throat, but his ears are ringing so loudly that he can’t actually hear what he’s saying (later, he’d learn that he was actually just repeating the word ‘floor’ over and over again, like his mouth was trying to warn his body that he was about to faceplant into said object).

Then Finn’s floating, and he blinks languidly, trying to make sense of how he’s suddenly started levitating. When Braun’s face comes into view, it takes him a stupidly ridiculous amount of time to realize he’s not actually floating: Braun’s managed to catch him before he hit the ground and is carrying him in his arms like he weighs approximately nothing.

Finn blinks at him again. _Well_.

“Neat,” he drawls. “You caught me. I’ve got to go now, but thanks for that. Really.”

Braun is looking at him with an expression Finn can’t quite decipher. He narrows his eyes.

“You hit your head, didn’t you?”

Oh. That’s what it is: exasperation.

“Did I?” says Finn. He thinks back as far as his mind will let him. He vaguely remembers being dropkicked into the barricade, and while he doesn’t recall actually hitting his head against anything, a very nasty case of whiplash comes to mind. He’s never been in a car accident before, but he knows that whiplash is just as dangerous as an actual impact.

Finn shuts his eyes at the lights in the hall and grimaces. _“Fffuck…”_

His stomach is churning, and he can feel a steady pounding thrum behind his eyeballs and temples. Ugh, he feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Don’t fall asleep,” comes Braun’s low baritone.

Finn hums; he’s not sure he wants to try to formulate words right now, not when his brain feels like it’s going to implode.

It feels like they’re moving. Finn doesn’t open his eyes, the light is too bright, _too bright_ , and he’s not sure he’s got the strength to open them anyway. He’s just really tired.

There are voices coming down the hall at them. Or is it behind them?

They start off small and faint, and then get louder and louder as they get closer. Braun stops almost immediately and Finn jostles in his arms as he whirls around and shouts at the people to back off.

“Mr. Strowman,” one of the voices is pleading, “please, just let us handle this-“

_“I SAID, BACK OFF!”_

Finn can feel the timbre of Braun’s voice through his ribcage and from where his head is resting on the giant’s shoulder, wincing at the booming of his voice as it sends another pang lancing through his temples. He really wishes they’d all be quiet.

Then Braun is moving again. The voices have gotten a little softer, like they’ve hung back for fear of getting swallowed whole by the monster among men, but they’re still shouting after him as he goes.

The further away they get, the more the world sounds as though it’s been submerged under water. Finn squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

When he opens them again, it’s because he’s being shaken with enough vigor to give him another headache. He grimaces, eventually prying his eyes open enough to see an annoyed looking Braun staring back at him.

“I told you not to fall asleep,” he growls.

Finn simply blinks at him, slow and uncomprehending. Had he fallen asleep?

The room shifts then and he feels the back of his head something soft.

A pillow.

Braun is uncharacteristically careful as he lays Finn down on the cot. Another face comes into view next to him, but Finn is gazing confused and transfixed at the giant man. Said man is staring back just as hard, and Finn vaguely wonders if an angry glare is just Braun’s default expression. He looks like he would punch Finn in the head, despite having just been so gentle with him.

“We’ll take it from here,” says the newcomer, breaking up their weird staredown, “he’s in good hands.”

Braun’s gaze slides from Finn to the man next to him. “He better be.”

If the trainer is intimidated, he doesn’t let it show.

Speaking of, when had they gotten to the trainer’s office? Must’ve been during that blank period when Finn had unknowingly dozed off.

Then Braun is gone, his thundering footsteps as his dips out into the hall echoing after him. As soon as he can’t hear him anymore, the trainer heaves a sigh and shakes his head. An unsettled look crosses his face; he had probably been scared shitless at Braun’s sudden arrival with a mostly unconscious Finn in his arms. Either way, Finn commends him for keeping it together for as long as he had.

“The commentators are right,” the trainer says. “That guy’s a monster.”

Finn shakes his head, a faint lopsided, concussion-loopy grin on his face. “Nah. He’s my friend.”

 

It’s a week later at the next taping when Finn sees Braun again.

He’s still feeling the aftereffects of his concussion, and he’s not quite cleared for active competition yet, but he’s not one to sit around and wait for things. He’s at Raw the next week, walking around backstage, making it known that he was still standing to all interested parties because he’d be damned if he let Baron Corbin of all people get the best of him, hanging around by catering and planning out how he’s going to get himself a spot on the Extreme Rules card when he spots Braun.

The giant is stalking towards gorilla like a silent storm cloud, and he looks up like he knows he’s being watched. When Braun sees him, Finn nods, gives him a signature grin.

Braun says nothing, nods slowly, and watches Finn for a moment longer before he’s gone again, no doubt to powerslam Kevin Owens into a crater.

…actually, that sounded pretty fun.

Maybe Finn will come along and watch.

**Author's Note:**

> find me here at neonflavored.tumblr.com/


End file.
